Falling Dreams and Faithful Hopes
by Sandiya
Summary: Joe is struggling, banished from family and distant to world. What will cause him to fall back to reality? More a drama than an all out Jyoumi... A trifle angsty to me. For Marie ^.^ Please read/review! ^_^


^_^ And I thought I'd never finish it. A dramatic Mimoe I've worked on for the longest time. American names, k?  
  
This is for you, Marie-chan... thanks for being a nifty pal and dedicating a Jyoumi to mesa! ^.^ My gift fic for ya. Lolli power!  
  
Thanks to everyone who reads this. I like this story, and I hope you like it too ^_^.  
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Falling Dreams and Faithful Hopes  
  
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Silent snow fell to the ground, sweeping through the streets of Odaiba, Tokyo, Japan. The dawn had come and gone, and it was about eight in the morning. Commotion was something that happened inside at this time of day in winter, for it was uncomfortable to be out in the cold for too long. My place at the window gave me a fairly long view of the town square below, everything covered in thousands of snowflakes. Even though it was early, Odaiba was never completely deserted. The people in bundles resembled awkward doll figures as they tiptoed the sidewalks, hoping to avoid falling down on the clear, slippery ice. I knew that their frustration was building up at not being able to rush, having felt the same two hours ago. Some giggling families left their buildings and entered taxis for temporary warmth, their beaming faces unscathed by the storm. They all had sanctuaries from the storm, and also each other. Still others carried bulging shopping bags, hurrying down the streets with their just bought treasures.  
  
I shifted my gaze to the abandoned parking lot, still being able to see despite the snowflake descent. A small boy, perhaps four years old, was throwing snowballs at his older brother. The sibling, in playful rage, chased him around with flashing, white weapons of his own. After dozens of spheres had been thrown, the mischievous brothers grew tired of it and exchanged grins. Then they ran into their building across the street, racing one another to see who could get their first.  
  
For a moment I was reminded of my brother Jim. Although he seemed much older than me, I felt like he was my best friend, aside from the seven Digidestined. When I was twelve, he had helped us with an escapade against VenomMyotismon, in which the villain had taken control of many adults. I had admired his hope when mine had faltered in the face of battle. I respected him for his wisdom and optimism, and he in turn encouraged me to reach for the sky when it came to life. I lost some of my trademark cynicism when we grew closer, because it was his mission that it would be so. It was difficult not to give something up for my brother back then.  
  
I smiled ruefully. It was only fitting that my father had managed to break that special bond as well. You could at least say the man was thorough. He took everyone under his power away. All.  
  
Banishing my lost brother to the darkest corner of my mind, I turned on my father. A year ago I would've been thrashing with emotion at his name, crying my heart out at his stubbornness. But now I chuckled as I thought of the man I had once lived with. Serious and determined, adamant and furious, careful and grudging summed up his 'parental' personality. If he were to step into my house right now, he'd probably tell me to shape up or ship out, because the prospering world didn't need people like me in it. Yep, that's what his words would be. Okay, so my appearance ranges from tousled to carefree... my living room could use some cleaning up... I don't have a wife... but it's my life, isn't it?  
  
Yes, my life. The tiny apartment I lived in was located in the center of Odaiba, my hometown. It wasn't much, but it felt enough like home to me. No one pounced on my every move, looking for errors. I had my own space to breathe. My main room consisted of a sofa, a bookcase filled with colorful books, and a coffee table. Several pictures were hanging on the wall farthest from the door. One was of an open meadow of blue flowers, another of a dark whale swimming through the sea, and the last was of an angelic girl playing the flute. I leaned back and inspected them, my custom of every morning.  
  
After all this time, the angelic girl was still my favorite. The five year old portrayed is my niece, daughter of the traitor, as I still referred to him. Being the sweet girl she was, Alli had offered to pose for my first painting three years ago, when everyone was still talking to one another. She had admirable patience, keeping her fingers on the keys for quite a long time. When I announced that my sketch on the paper was done, she rushed over to look at it. Satisfied, she gave me a hug. Then, holding her silver instrument to her lips, she blew. A beautiful, enchanting sound resulted, hanging over the air, and I envied the talent she had for something so precious as music. As soon as I told her so, she lifted her big blue eyes to meet mine and smiled knowingly.  
  
Words spilled from her, the last words she said before we were parted for the last time.  
  
Those words were very meaningful at the time, but I didn't remember exactly what she said. All I could think about was where she was now, what she was doing, and if she still remembered her Uncle Joe. At 8, there were far more entertaining things than remembering a man you hadn't seen for the latest years of your life, I guess. But I still held a hope that she would remember me if we met again.  
  
Whenever I looked at it, I had to wonder if my life would've been better if I had married like Jim. I wondered if it would have been better to have the chance of being able to read a bedtime story to my daughter or to bandage the wounds my son would have from playing soccer. I wondered if I missed out on the drama plays my eldest would've starred in and the trophies my youngest won from first place on the  
debate team. And most of all, I wondered if they'd turn out to be beautiful, kind people that would always be welcome on any doorstep.  
  
Imaginary families...that's what you illusion yourself with when you live alone. I sighed, dropping my chin onto the palm of my hand, who's elbow was resting on the windowsill.  
  
Hers was the first painting I painted. But soon after she had left, I realized it wouldn't be the last.   
  
Leaving my medical work to those more dedicated, I decided to become an artist.   
  
It was a struggle, but I made it through because I wanted to make something of myself. Two or three dozen of my artworks had gone to the nearby gallery called, "The Living Art", located a couple of blocks from my house. Mrs. Nguyen, the woman who ran the gallery, sometimes asked if she could sell of my work, and my delighted answer would be yes. It warmed my heart that people liked what I did, and actually spent money on my pieces. The only three I could not bear to part with were here.  
  
It was lonely, heart-wrenching sometimes, but the human being can get used to anything.  
  
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I stayed at the window because an artist's best inspiration comes from watching. A person, a leaf, a flower; they all served to stimulate some creativity.   
  
I gaped.  
  
A figure was approaching my building, her long dress swaying behind her. Slightly psychotic as it sounds, I felt her features were familiar. Even at so far a distance, her aura claimed to be powerful and imposing while her delicate looks spoke of only rapt beauty. Her dainty feet stepped into large puddles created by melted snow, now splashing water. She was carrying a large thin box, careful not to get it wet. Auburn strands of moistened hair framed her face, giving it a slight glowing appearance. I had never seen such beauty, and immediately I wondered why she was here when she entered through the main door.  
  
I thought she must've been a visiting aunt, looking for a child to give a huge present to. Maybe a designer of the building, trying out new wallpaper for a new room. Or a new girlfriend of the gentleman a floor below me. Perhaps even the newest tenant.  
  
Whatever she was must have been special.   
  
A swift knock woke me out of my reverie. Who would come this early in the morning? Ohh... Stretching my legs, I opened the door, expecting to see my landlady for the next bill payment. She was so worried about punctuality. When I opened the door, I felt the wind rush inside.  
  
I stared blankly at the stranger I had seen earlier.  
  
"Joe!" she cried before enveloping me in a hug.   
  
Letting go, she carefully laid the box she was carrying on the floor. "I missed you."  
  
"Mimi Tachikawa..." I whispered. The last time I had seen her she had this outrageous pink hair and stylish clothes, and now I was met with her original caramel colored hair and business suit... could there really be that much beauty in one person?   
  
At her comforting glance, I recovered, deciding to say something dashing and romantic. "...Er, uh, how'd you find me?"  
  
Remind me to cut out my tongue later...  
  
She laughed and shook her hair out, raindrops falling on the rug. Precious water. "The craziest way! I stopped by this gallery, visiting home one more time, and the supervisor showed me all the fantastic paintings. One painting was of a pair of light brown eyes, and I guess I just felt I was looking into a mirror."  
  
Mimi pointed to the box. "I bought it, and just had to ask who painted it. Then the very generous lady offered your address, and here I am. Joe, why did you never tell me you were an artist?"   
  
I scratched the back of my head, my face at full blush now. I had feelings for Mimi in the Digiworld, and just -now- she was finding out that back then she'd meant the world to me. "...I...I meant to send that one to you, you were my inspiration after all, but I never figured you'd want to hear from me. I became an artist because...well, it's a long story."  
  
"How could you think that? I'm proud of you, Joe Kido!" She grinned. "Tell me it. I'm here to listen."  
  
When I had finished, she sighed contentedly. "That was an adventure we never had in the Digiworld."  
  
"Yeah, just slightly more difficult. I do it more for my joy than anything else, I guess. You get used to the pressure. So, what've you been up to?"  
  
She shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. "This and that. Traveling here and there. Reporter for the New York Times..."  
  
"That's prodigious!" I yelled, trying to lighten the mood. I wasn't jealous, not really... Mimi probably made a brilliant questioner. Her nervousness gone, she burst into laughter at the one statement I remembered Koushirou for. "Yep, exactly. I miss the others like crazy."  
  
"Me too. I wonder what they're doing now."  
  
Reminiscing gave us silence, and then Mimi looked from her watch to me sorrowfully. "I promised my editor that I'd get the latest story in by tonight. See you tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."  
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I was light on my feet before her footsteps had even died away. The ground could have been swallowed up whole and I wouldn't have noticed. Those light brown eyes...  
  
Joe, get a grip. I repeated this to myself a couple of times to drive it through my head.  
  
Trying to forget the meeting, I grabbed a book on the counter. I had determined that I would never get close to anyone again. Anytime I started a bond with someone, it would crumble into a million pieces, so the point of it was lost on me.  
  
Reading through the latest thriller I'd taken from the library, I proceeded on the fifth chapter of the fast-paced book. Even though I hated practicing medicine in itself, the miracles and disasters that faced doctors racing against time to protect their patients with their lives was fascinating to me. It was a very honorable profession, my father had decreed. And I agreed, but it just wasn't for me. I was overwhelmed at the cries floating from every room and the parents going berserk with rage and confusion at not being able to help their loved ones. As soon as my first week there was over, I had the urge to run out of there and never come back.  
  
And I did.   
  
My father...oh, but you don't want to hear about my father. What he did was out of pure revenge, and it wasn't hard to figure out why he did it. No matter how harsh it may seem now, I have no feeling toward the man anymore. The past is the past.   
  
There I was, reading how an unsuspecting man died from breathing in a burst of dust. Amazing how people can craft a mystery out of something that happens daily.  
  
Before I could turn the page, however, I heard a bang on the door. Not a simple knuckle or fist, but a bang, as if the person was desperate to get in. I sat up in bed, wondering what was going on. Mimi couldn't have finished so early...  
  
Another bang, this time more powerful. Slowly climbing out of bed, I cautiously approached the door, asking who it was. Instead of an answer, I listened to the pitiful cries the person uttered, and felt my heart breaking all over again. The hospital was still fresh in my memory.  
  
I opened the door.  
  
He hurled himself into my apartment, his thin, frail body racking with sobs. Tripping over his own feet, he landed facedown on the floor. Shaking, the man couldn't speak for sometime, content to lie and cry on my floor for sometime. Uncomfortable and wishing to help, I bent over his body and whispered, "Who are you? Can I help you, sir?"   
  
He gave a dry laugh and slowly lifted his head up. "Don't tell me you don't recognize your own brother, Joe."  
  
My throat swelled and closed, not allowing me to breathe. This man was Jim? This man was the brother I had been torn away from three years ago? I felt my stomach lurch at the sight of his sunken face, his eyes blood-shot from crying. What tortured a man's soul like this? He was not at all the cheerful brother who always looked ahead. Something had to happen that would destroy the joy in his eyes, something horrible.   
  
"Jim... Jim, get up. You're freezing, let me help you..."  
  
He had no choice but to accept my offering hand. I helped him onto the sofa and served him hot cocoa. His rough hands were shaking while he was holding the cup. He smiled ironically, looking down at the floor. Jim would not look me straight in the face. "You still help me when I abandoned you at father's orders. You were always my favorite brother, Joe."  
  
Trying to laugh, I replied, "Yuh-huh. I guess only brothers always get that title, ne?"   
  
"Yeah. Do you... do you want to know why I'm here?  
  
No, no I don't want to know. I don't want to know why you're breaking down because I'll probably follow you, big brother. But I couldn't tell him that. "Sure, if you'll tell me."  
  
"It's Mika. Mika was climbing a tree without our knowing it, and she fell. We found her sprawled on the ground. Drastic situation, and I felt too incompetent to handle it." His baritone voice breaking, the last words squeaked by: "I think she's dying, Joe. Please come."  
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At her hospital room, we were met by Jim's wife. She was a natural mother, at peace and harmony whenever I saw her with Alli. Sophia would've given her life for the child if she could've, and all you had to do was look at the heartbroken gaze in her eyes.  
  
"I should've been there, I should've been there." Noticing our presence, she abruptly stopped her chanting and smiled weakly. "She's in a coma now, Joe. The doctors don't know if she'll awaken. But you can go in if you want."   
  
After giving her a quick hug, I basically ran towards my niece. My shock was evident on my face, as I noticed when I glanced into the sidewall mirror. Her hospital bed seemed so gigantic for a small girl of only eight. Kneeling down by her side, I stared at the youthful face that had greeted me everyday when I woke. Age had resulted in adding more prettiness and a soft wise look.  
  
I prayed that she would open her eyes. I prayed I would get to talk to her once more. I prayed that she wouldn't leave without saying good-bye.  
  
I was met with silence. Closing my eyes, I cried for the first time that long night. It wasn't fair that the moment Jim and Sophia turned their back, fate would strike down the most innocent child I knew. The best little girl in the world to me. Three years had not changed my strong feelings for my niece, of that I was certain. Maybe they had intensified as I saw her lying there helpless.  
  
In the middle of my sobbing, I caught a wisp of hard breathing onto my hair. Lifting my head up, I saw the pale girl smiling crookedly. Her blue eyes reminded me of a sea before a storm, mysteriously bright, even in the midst of this crisis she was thrown into. She coughed, her whole body shaking with effort. Wheezing harshly but trying to hide it, she murmured, "Uncle Joe. You're here."  
  
I was overjoyed but worried at the same time. "Rest now, Alli. Your fall has had its toll, but you'll be okay. You need all your effort to survive this, my dear. Then we can do things like take picnics, go skating, even do more pictures!"   
  
She shook her head, an understanding smile on her face. "I wish we could, Uncle Joe. No, it's my time to go."  
  
"It's not definite," I faltered under her certainty. "Nobody knows if you're going to leave."  
  
"I know. My dream told me, and that's enough." Slowly I realized that -I- was the one who needed comforting. She gave another cough, holding the back of her hand to her head. "Please, could you do three things for me?"  
  
"Yes, Alli."  
  
"Please forgive Grandfather."  
  
"Grandfather?" I trailed numbly. "You mean my father?"  
  
"Right, Uncle Joe. Sometime he may fall like me and he might not wake up when you want him to."  
  
"I'll try." Sincerely I'd try, if she asked. She heard it in my voice.  
  
"Tell my parents I love them."  
  
"Definitely, but you can tell them yourself. I'll call them now."  
  
Slightly exasperated, she answered, "I'm not finished yet, Uncle Joe. Open your heart to people."  
  
I gave a chuckle, wondering how she knew this was the thing that most troubled me. "It's not that easy, Alli. I can't just say Open Sesame."  
  
"I know. It was mistakes that first closed it, and maybe it'll take mistakes to open it again. I love you, Uncle Joe. Your kids will too."  
  
Her eyes twinkled. I ruffled her hair, "Okay, munchkin. All I can tell you is that I'll try."  
  
Alli smiled peacefully. "That's all I ask, Uncle Joe."   
  
Her hand gripped my fingers, then limply fell back. Gradually, she drifted away, ...far away...   
  
I kissed her still rosy cheek through my rushing tears. A faithful soul had risen.  
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Wreck that I was, I managed to drive myself home, the snow still falling over the streets of Odaiba.  
  
Mimi miraculously stood by my apartment door, waiting for me. "I finished the story..." was all she could say before I fell at her feet.  
  
She bent down and held me tightly while I cried, my self-proclaimed sanctuary from the storm... I never felt more love for her than at that second.  
  
It was in her arms that I remembered the uplifting, hopeful words Alli had given me three years ago.  
  
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"I'm not the only one who can do wonderful stuff, Uncle Joe."  
  
"Oh, really, Alli? Then who else can do wonderful stuff?"  
  
She replied, "You can, Uncle Joe." She had hugged my neck tightly, life's principle simple in her eyes. "Love can do all."  
  
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Too many words, I see it now... ^_^ The title doesn't make much sense either. But I guess it's okay. Too cold to think. Probably my last work for awhile, dreaded writer's block attacks ~.~ But please review for mesa! ^^  
  
~Sandiya~ -Miko of the flighty bakas of the nation ^_^ Baka land!  
  
P.S. Alli, the name and personality, is a tribute to two good friends ^_^ Mercury and Sachiko. You guys rule!  



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